


Prince Anduin, A Moment

by Laeviss



Series: Wranduin! [8]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Curiosity, First Kiss, Just two boys chilling in bed one foot apart because they're totally gay, Kissing, M/M, Some mentions of M/F content as well, Suggestive Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: While reading a Steamy Romance Novel, Wrathion comes across a few questions he cannot answer. Hoping to find some resolution, he sneaks into Prince Anduin's chambers at the Tavern and invites him to read beside him.
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Wranduin! [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756381
Comments: 16
Kudos: 108





	Prince Anduin, A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to rate this story "T" based on the overall content, but there's some fairly explicit discussion at the beginning. I guess the best way to describe it would be a hard T leaning towards an M.
> 
> Also, this is my first time writing in present tense. I hope it came out okay!

“Prince Anduin, a moment.”

Anduin lifts his head when he hears the door creak in the darkness. He only barely catches the glow of red eyes before his bed squeaks under his intruder’s weight and his blankets are jostled to the side. The prince makes room. He has become accustomed to Wrathion’s late-night visits, and, as a matter of fact, most nights he even enjoys them.

Scooting until his back is against the wall, he watches Wrathion crack open a book and spread it out on the pillow in front of them. With a swish of his claw-like hand, the dragon sparks the lantern on his nightstand to life.

The orange halo it produces soon eclipses Wrathion’s crimson light and illuminates the pages the dragon has placed between them. It doesn’t take long for Anduin to realize exactly what reading material Wrathion has decided to share with him, and, after that realization comes another, even more embarrassing than the first.

Anduin’s eyes widen slightly as he scans a few lines of text. Every word sends the blood rushing to his cheeks, but if Wrathion notices he is undeterred. He just scoots closer, pulling Anduin’s blanket atop himself, and stretching out his legs until his toes brush against the human’s own. Even that slightest touch makes Anduin’s shoulders tense, given the circumstances. Wrathion must sense it, because he rolls onto his side to recline, instead, with his gaze fixed on Anduin’s face.

It takes a moment for Anduin to find his voice, and when he finally does, it’s more of a squeak than the whisper he would have preferred: “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Yes, about this scene,” Wrathion nods. The golden loop through his ear jingles slightly, and his uncovered curls swish about his face. While Anduin knows he himself must look flustered, the Black Prince’s furrowed brows and tight frown speak only to his determination. 

With that in mind, Anduin tries again, this time willing his eyes to look anywhere but down at the book. “About the scene,” he repeats, “What about the scene would you like to know?”

Anduin, of course, hasn’t read the scene: not really. The awkward scanning he had done a few moments before had hardly counted as reading, and his father had insisted any such pages be pulled from his own copy of the book before Anduin was allowed to read it. Still, he summons a confident look and gives Wrathion the time and space to explain.

Wrathion glances back down at the page. Running his claw-like nail along the edge of the leaf, he finds a line about halfway down and taps on it. Anduin pays it little more than a glance, forcing himself to keep his gaze fixed on Wrathion’s face.

“This bit,” the dragon’s eye flash as he tilts his head down to stare at it. “A few lines prior, it clearly states that our dear friend Raven has a penis, and yet here Sir Marcus inserts his penis inside his ‘opening.’ I am a bit unclear on the details. I thought your Highness might be better acquainted.”

Anduin freezes. Distantly, he knows why Wrathion has come to that conclusion, but it doesn’t stop him from jumping to its most embarrassing possible meaning. His cheeks burn, and he sputters, trying to look away from Wrathion only to find his gaze on the book instead. It seems nowhere is safe with the dragon waiting impatiently beside him.

Rather than answer, Anduin snaps back in a voice that sounds suddenly (shamefully) like his father’s, “Where did you get this from, Wrathion? If it came from one of your agents…”

“Oh, it most certainly did, and I intend to put it back when I am finished.”

“All right,” Anduin nods a bit, determined to do anything but answer. “Well, maybe when you are finished, you can ask him your questions. I haven’t read the whole thing.”

Having to admit that he hasn’t had access to the entire book makes Anduin cringe, but Wrathion doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Instead he jumps to another conclusion, one Anduin hasn't anticipated.

“I see,” Wrathion muses, removing his hand from the page to give Anduin better access to it. The human prince doesn’t rise to the bait: or, at least, he doesn’t at first. Wrathion continues, a bit louder than Anduin would have liked:

“So what you are saying is you do not know the answer.”

“I—” Anduin quickly jumps in, “No! That’s not what I—”

“It’s quite all right, Anduin. If you would like, perhaps we can read it together? I have no desire to sleep for some time. I am certain we could make it to the end of the chapter.”

Anduin can feel his blush reach the tips of his ears. He, of course, knows the answer, and knows he could quickly dismiss the dragon or call for a cup of tea from his guards and send the whelp scurrying out his window with the book clamped between his teeth. But the longer Anduin lies under the blanket with Wrathion, the less he finds himself wanting to do that. 

It takes a few moments for him to let himself make the choice, but when he does, he rolls over onto his stomach and props his elbows under his chin. He tries to get comfortable looking down at the text. 

Or, at least, as comfortable as he’s going to get lying in bed reading a steamy romance with another boy pressed up against him. 

“Yes, okay,” he quietly confirms, as if his change in stance isn’t enough. He can’t see the dragon smile, but he can feel it in the way Wrathion squirms before coming to rest on the pillow beside him. Their arms brush when Wrathion scoots the book more evenly between them. Anduin draws in a breath, squeezing closed his eyes, and then opening them again, resolved to focus his mind on the book and the book alone.

His tenacity lasts for about two pages, and then Wrathion speaks up again. “This Raven fellow,” the dragon muses. His thumb flicks idly at the corner of the leaf. “He seems handsome. I would like to meet him someday, I think. Does he work at the stable in Stormwind?” 

Anduin turns, incredulous, “I don’t think he’s real, Wrathion.”

“Nonsense,” Wrathion shoots back, “Of course he’s real.”

Anduin stares, looking for some hint that the dragon is joking but failing to find one. For the first time in the conversation, his embarrassment yields to something akin to amusement. The corners of his lips twitch slightly, and he lowers his voice, pleased that he no longer feels totally out of his element, “Wrathion, these books are fictional. You know that, right?”

“They aren’t.”

“They are,” the human insists, kindly, but still firm in his meaning, “Goblins write them, or, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. I have never met any stable hands named Raven in Stormwind, and we don’t have a Sir Marcus, either.”

Wrathion looks a bit…put out by this. His lips purse in a line, and he looks back down at the page, as if seeking some counterpoint in its words. Whatever he is hoping to find, he doesn’t seem to find it. He wrinkles his nose, turns the page, and then asks, “But there are handsome knights and stable keepers there, I imagine.”

“Well,” Anduin admits, the glow of his blush returning, “Yes. I mean, of course.”

“Any that you have met?”

A memory stirs in Anduin’s mind: a certain wavy-haired knight sauntering up to his booth with a rose clutched between his gloved fingers. Anduin still recalls the way his heart leapt when he thought, for a single, awestruck moment, that that flower had been for him, and how his face had burned when the knight brushed past him to pass it, instead, to a disgruntled Princess Tess. 

Recalling makes his breath catch in his throat, and his heart clench as Wrathion’s curls tickle his cheek. It’s only then that he realizes the dragon is leaning over and nudging him to turn the page. He swallows. He hasn’t caught up, but he flips the leaf, nonetheless. The other boy’s breath feels hot against his cheek as he prompts him again with a simple, “Well?”

“Yes,” he rushes to reply, “I mean, of course I have. There are a lot of them, you know. Handsome ones.”

“I see. And have you had sex with them?”

“Wrathion!” The prince can barely believe what he’s hearing. It takes everything in him not to snatch the book and slam it closed, after that. 

He must have shouted, because somewhere downstairs he hears a table creak, and the clang of what is likely armor being readjusted. He quickly quiets himself, though it is difficult with his heart pounding in his throat. 

“Wrathion,” he tries again, this time hissing with the blanket pulled up to his shoulders. He wants nothing more than to burrow beneath it, but he wills himself to keep his head out. “You realize I was _thirteen_ when I left Stormwind, right? No, I haven’t had—” Even the thought of saying it makes him fluster, so he settles on— “Anything like that, and if I had, you shouldn’t just…ask, you know.”

The dragon most certainly hears the human’s chastisement, but he continues as if he hasn’t. With a slight shrug, he turns until he is studying Anduin directly. He props his head in the palm of one hand and gestures towards him with the other, “What of kissing, then? Have you done anything of that nature?”

Anduin thinks better of giving in to the questioning for a moment but decides there’s probably no harm in it. Shifting to mirror Wrathion’s position, he pushes the book aside with his elbow and settles. Now he’s looking the dragon square in the face.

“Well, yes, I have done that,” he answers, offering the faintest of smiles, “A couple of times.”

Wrathion’s brows furrow once more. His slit pupils widen, consuming some of his eyes’ crimson glow. “I see,” he seems to be mulling over the statement, considering it like he might consider an item brought by one of his champions. After a pause, he repeats in an equally low voice, “A couple of times, you say?”

“Yes,” the human prince nods. His bangs swish slightly about his forehead.

“With one of these ‘handsome knights’ you describe?”

“No,” Anduin lets out an awkward laugh; it comes out sounding more like a gasp than a giggle, after all the time he has spent holding it in. He can feel Wrathion shifting closer, can feel his eyes scanning his face, and so he goes on, explaining as simply as he can manage:

“Not quite. The first was with a girl I danced with at the Stormwind ball, someone my father’s advisors pressured me to escort to her room.”

Wrathion’s brows arch. It’s clear he wasn’t anticipating this answer, and he does little to hide his shock. Anduin can almost feel the question forming on his lips, and so he cuts him off, going on:

“She was older, maybe fifteen, and bigger than me, too. She kissed me. It was, ah—awkward?”

“Awkward? How so?”

Anduin closes his eyes for a moment, suddenly sheepish. The way he had felt lingering in front of her door with their lips pushed together and her tongue nudging against his teeth, The smell of her perfume, and the moment he had caught her grimacing and wiping her mouth on her hand when she turned away: it is all much fresher in his mind than he would like.

He laughs again. Laughing, he hopes, will clear away his residual shame. He is only marginally successful, but thankfully Wrathion doesn’t seem to be waiting quite as impatiently as he was moments before.

“It was just awkward,” Anduin finally explains, “I knew she didn’t want to be there, you know, and I didn't want her to kiss me, either. Dealing with nobles is always a bit, ah, uncomfortable.”

“But the kissing part?”

“I mean, kissing her was uncomfortable, yes, but that doesn’t mean all kissing is uncomfortable.”

“So, you have had some comfortable kisses, as well?”

“I suppose you could say that, yeah.”

“Well, tell me about that, my dear. I want to hear all of the details.”

‘Of course you do,’ Anduin wants to add, but thinks better of it, shaking his head instead. He chooses his words more carefully this time, trying to make sure the dragon is clear on the details: “There was a young draenei boy training as a priest along side of me. When I was leaving for Theramore, he kissed me on the lips. It wasn’t anything big or romantic, but it felt, well, _nice_. I liked it. It made me…”

He trails off with a chuckle, realizing his words have gotten away from his. Heat has returned to his cheeks, but he doesn’t scorn it this time. In fact, it brings a smile back to his lips, which Wrathion seems to notice, because he stares, studying them with a kind of intensity that takes Anduin aback.

And then, it hits him. Wrathion isn’t asking to pry. He’s asking because he has no experience himself, and is trying to imagine…well, by the way he is staring at Anduin’s mouth, it doesn’t take much guesswork to put two-and-two together. The human’s pulse quickens, and then everything seems to come into focus: the heat of Wrathion’s body beside him, his smoky scent usually masked during the day by his cologne, and the very aloneness they’ve found themselves in.

Before Anduin can think, can consider the implications of what he is about to do, he leans in and holds his breath. Their lips brush—gently, at first, and with a soft grunt of surprise from Wrathion that gets lost against Anduin’s mouth. With that, the pressure of their kiss increases. Anduin lets his eyes slide closed, and Wrathion shifts. The next thing Anduin feels is a single clawed hand sliding against his cheek and tucking back a strand of his hair.

Anduin's skin tingles at the contact. Wanting Wrathion to feel just as good, he reaches over and toys with one of his curls. Parting his lips, Anduin seeks out the tip of Wrathion’s tongue, and then he murmurs, gently, affirmingly, a soft “okay?” that is met by a nod.

The human prince had gone in feeling like he knew what to expect, but now the feeling washing over him is unlike anything he had experienced the other two times. His chest swells. His breath hitches and sweat that has little to do with the dragon’s heat caresses the back of his neck. 

He doesn’t know for sure how long they have been kissing, but when they part, he can still feel the wetness of Wrathion’s breath and the tickle of his goatee against his swollen lower lip. Regarding each other for a speechless moment, they both smile. Finally, with a bit of an awkward laugh, Anduin withdraws his fingers from Wrathion’s curls and brings them to rest on the mattress between them. 

There is a long pause: moments spent studying each other’s faces, swallowing, and settling back into a more relaxed position under the blankets. Then, in a soft voice, Wrathion breaks the silence once more:

“Yes, that was quite comfortable. In fact, I think I would like to do it again, if my prince is willing.”

“Yes,” Anduin barely manages to gasp out, “Yes, please.”


End file.
